


A Dream, Pretender, Liar

by neverminetohold



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Spoiler, Romance, Slash, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Fade, a truth is revealed, but Aran is blessed, for he is ignorant...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream, Pretender, Liar

The mark on the palm of his hand burned, its pulse keeping pace with his heartbeat. It sizzled and wavered, green-tinged lightning trapped in a physical vessel never meant or fit to hold it.  
  
Aran took a calming breath, then another. He was lost. In the Fade. Again.  
  
Keenly aware of the irony his lips twisted into the semblance of a smile that pulled his vallaslin askew. Perhaps Mythal, his chosen, had finally abandoned him. Him, a Dalish, heralded as one blessed by the Burned Lady.  
  
The treacherous path he had followed through ragged ruins, passing walls that stretched towards the eternity of the Black City, and the remnants of stranger's dreams, had led him nowhere but before an abyss. No spirits where to be seen, no pools of lyrium, nor the pinpricks of cold light that might have been stars, shining through the veil that separated this sphere from what all Thedosians called reality.  
  
Unease crept up along his spine as Aran stared down into that depth of darkness, roiling only one step away. Something tempting lurked there, had perhaps called to him all along, sweet and patient, as only the malevolent could.  
  
"Let go," it seemed to whisper. "Your burdens are many: Inquisitor. Herald. Apostate."  
  
Aran took a step back. His armor, fashioned after the style of the Arcane Warriors of Elvhenan, would offer him no protection in this place. Worse, while the Anchor raged as if a rift were near, his magic felt... diminished.  
  
Suddenly, a surge of power washed over him, howling like the dire wolf, black as soot and ash. Aran stumbled, a blade of grass caught in the flow of a river that threatened to wash him away and over the edge.  
  
His fingers strained for anything they might reach in time to halt him, only to close around nothing but thin air -  
  
"Lethallin."  
  
Aran's eyes snapped open and he gradually became aware of the familiar surroundings of his quarters at Skyhold, still smelling faintly of fresh paint and new furniture, his own naked body, and the warmth of Solas, poised as if to shield him.  
  
Gentle fingertips ghosted over his lips, the line of his nose and cheekbones like a cool and soothing balm. Their pattern repeated with infinite patience until Aran's frantic heartbeat had slowed, no longer pounding in his ears.  
  
He let his tension go with a long sigh, then kissed the pad of Solas' thumb before his ministrations stilled. "Aneth ara," Aran greeted him, the words no simple phrase but truth.  
  
"Ma vhenan," Solas promptly answered, long past restraint in his affections. A fact both Sera and Varric had duly noted and commented upon, with varying degrees of glee and teasing. "What place did you visit? I could not find you."  
  
Usually, resting like this, they dreamed together, with Solas guiding him through the Fade, as ever a patient and wise teacher. Thanks to him Aran had met spirits of faith and compassion, had shared in their knowledge, and seen the fading memories of Arlathan.  
  
His mouth opened and closed, all words to answer lost on him. Aran frowned, trying to recall what he had seen and feared. "I... I knew something terrible would happen and I powerless to stop it." He shuddered and Solas wrapped the furs more firmly around them both. "Something howled in the darkness."  
  
There was silence for a drawn-out moment. "I see."  
  
Aran could not read the emotion in his eyes, nor discern their color, with the embers dying in the fireplace and the sun not yet risen. "Solas?"  
  
His question was answered with a familiar smile, all signs of pensive pondering gone. "We must be more careful in the future. Corypheus has upset the balance of the natural order. Occurrences such as these should not have taken me by surprise."  
  
"Or me." Aran burrowed closer in their warm nest, one hand exploring muscles that quivered under his touch, then added wryly: "But we were a little too... preoccupied to take proper precautions."  
  
"Indeed." Solas laughed, his interest clearly stirring and spirit drawn away from whatever had him unsettled so beyond Aran's little mishap in the Fade. "So, where were we?"  
  
Aran was only too happy to remind him.

  
  
[“The essence of lying is in deception, not in words.” ~ John Ruskin]


End file.
